


Indiscreet

by LeraOmo (Lera_Myers)



Series: Thedas Wettings [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftercare, Bathing/Washing, Bladder Control, Desperation Play, Dom/sub, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Exhibitionism, F/F, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Omorashi, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 08:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13700745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lera_Myers/pseuds/LeraOmo
Summary: Lavellan and Josephine try bladder control. Unfortunately, they also end up being walked in on.





	Indiscreet

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains consensual omorashi and bladder control. Please read the tags!
> 
> For [a prompt](https://dragonage-kink.dreamwidth.org/89812.html?thread=361982164) at the Dragon Age Kink Meme.

No matter what her girlfriend might suspect, it really is just coincidence there are an awful lot of messengers in and out of Josephine’s office tonight. Many of them come delivering news for her, but a few seek the Inquisitor, knowing Lavellan has a habit of spending her evenings working in this room. What none of them know is how long their leader has gone without excusing herself to the privy, and how much liquid she’s had in the meantime.

This setup is the result of a combination of things, carefully calculated to hit the right notes for both of them. After a long day of work, Lavellan craves nothing more than to hand the reins to her lover in any and every way possible. They both adore the thrill of nearly being caught. And most recently, Josephine’s interest has been drawn to a new curiosity: elven bodies lend themselves to small bladders. It is a delicious mixture.

With the most recent visitor out of earshot, Josephine leans over her desk. “How are you managing?” she murmurs.

Lavellan answers just as she has the last several times: “I can hold out.”

It won’t be much time until that answer changes. For easily half an hour, she hasn’t added a single letter to her paperwork, seemingly unable to concentrate well enough. She’s sat bolt upright with her thighs pressed together at least that long. A hint of a smile tugs at Josephine’s lips.

“I know you can wait,” she says, and Lavellan nods, refusing to safeword. That is _trust_ , Josephine thinks - relinquishing control of one’s most basic needs to another. For her part, she’s still debating whether to keep denying her lover until she breaks, or grant permission at the last moment. Both are tempting, and it’s clear she's running out of time to decide.

There’s a knock at the door before Dagna opens it and bounces in cheerfully. “Hi, Inquisitor! Can I run this design past you?”

Lavellan swallows. “Sure,” she manages, voice undeniably strained. Her teeth worry at her lower lip.

Dagna eyes her with some concern. “Are you okay? You look...tense.”

“No, no, sorry.” She huffs, making a show of getting to her feet and starting to pace. “I’ve…got a lot on my mind. You know how it is.”

Dagna nods. She must miss the smile Josephine quickly hides, as well as the subtle squirmy undertone to their leader’s movements. “I’ll keep it quick!” she chirps. “Could you just look at these sketches?”

True to her word, it’s only a few minutes before she’s on her way again, but Lavellan looks half-pained by that point. When the door shuts, she leans back against the wall with a gasp, crossing one leg over the other.

“ _Fenedhis_.” She meets Josephine’s eyes, pleading, “War room?”

Josephine nods, swallowing down the words she’d been about to say: _We can stop._ In their time spent experimenting, they’ve found the war room ideal for cautious exhibitionism. Public by definition, yet only a few people are allowed to enter, and they never do apart from designated meetings. That, and the floor is easy to clean.

It’s with that thought they hurry down the hall. As soon as the door closes behind them, Lavellan doubles over, gripping her thighs tightly. “Oh, _Creators_ , I have to piss.”

With a gentle _tsk_ , Josephine noses at her cheek. “Just a bit longer. I know you can.” Her gaze trails slowly downwards, and she adds, “Your boots?”

The Inquisitor’s eyes widen. “I didn’t even think,” she admits, glancing down at them. She’s said herself they’re a pain to dry out. “Help?”

Josephine stoops to do as much, but it’s no simple task to unlace boots when the wearer’s legs are jiggling this much. “Stand _still_ ,” she chides, more firmly than she could justify if she wasn’t playing a role; Lavellan gulps and trembles with the effort. Once her footwear is loosened enough, the Inquisitor kicks them off in two different directions, careless of where they land.

“I’m going to lose it,” she breathes, hands tugging insistently at her tunic. One of them tries to go between her legs, but Josephine nudges it away with an admonishing noise.

“No, none of that. Stand up straight and be ladylike.”

It’s a lost cause anyway, with the way desperation is written all over Lavellan’s face, but the knowledge that she’s trying - that’s everything. “Can I…?” Her fingers move to the laces of her trousers.

Josephine considers it, taking a few seconds longer than strictly necessary. “You could - ”

She’s cut off when the door swings open. Lavellan jumps a foot in the air, jamming both fists into her crotch, but Josephine knows even before she hears the little cry of, “Nono _no_!” that it’s too late.

Leliana leans into the room, arms loaded down with files, expression unreadable. “I was - ”

“Maker’s breath, close the door!” She has to raise her voice above the sound of Lavellan swearing in elvish.

“Bar it next time!” Leliana retorts, even as she slams it shut.

Sparing barely a second to grimace, Josephine turns her attention back to the Inquisitor. She’s scarlet in the face, eyes squeezed shut and expression contorted. Her trousers are soaked almost to the knees, a thin stream snaking down one leg towards the floor.

“Josephine, I _can’t_ , it’s _coming out_ \- !”

“You can let go,” Josephine blurts, stepping forward. Lavellan latches onto her immediately, breath escaping in a long groan as she stops fighting and _releases_. The sound of it pouring into her trousers and splattering on the floor feels deafening, even with the way Josephine’s heart is still pounding in her ears.

She’d been hoping to watch Lavellan’s expression at the end of it all. The way the Inquisitor buries her face in Josephine’s shoulder and clings on - hands damp where they were holding herself - renders that impossible, but she can’t bring herself to ask for it now. Instead, she holds her lover tight, feeling the smaller body quiver and tremble against hers.

Lavellan’s still babbling in elvish as her bladder empties, almost like she can’t quiet herself. Josephine cranes her neck the tiniest bit, just enough to watch the puddle on the floor expand, its edges creeping towards one leg of the war table. They’re both standing in wetness now, and the liquid is scalding hot as it hits the ground, as the dripping starts to slow and Lavellan’s words dissolve into panting and gasping.

There’s a beat or two of silence before her breath catches and she shakes, then _sobs_ out loud. Josephine rubs circles on her back, humming quiet soothing noises.

“It’s all right, my love. It’s all all right.”

“How can you say that?” Lavellan gulps in breath, sniffling. “She just saw me…”

“She has seen worse, darling, I promise you.”

“Worse than the Inquisitor g-getting off on - on _pissing herself_?” Lavellan shakes her head, choking on her own words. “I’ll never be able to look her in the eye again.”

“Much worse,” Josephine says firmly, giving her a squeeze. “I know Leliana. She will not tell anyone.”

There’s a slight pause before she answers. “Still.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

Lavellan hiccups. Josephine remains holding her for several long moments, until her breathing starts to settle and she finally pulls away, drying her face with the back of her hand.

“I had the bathwater prepared earlier.” Josephine catches her shoulder gently. “Shall we?”

Gaze still locked on the floor, Lavellan nods. “I can…” she begins, gesturing to the puddle and waving her hand, as if to demonstrate magicking it away.

“There is no need.” Josephine shakes her head. “I’ll take care of it once we’ve cleaned up.”

Another nod. The water in the tub has long since gone cold, but Lavellan warms it with a flick of her hand, refusing to take no for an answer this time. She peels off her wet things and climbs in; once Josephine has barred her office door, she shucks her own clothes and follows. Drawing the Inquisitor into her lap, she brushes her fingers through her girlfriend’s hair, less intent on washing it than on massaging her scalp soothingly.

“That was…” Lavellan blows a shaky breath out, reaching up to wipe away a fresh wave of tears. “There’s a lesson here about tempting fate.”

“I know. And I do apologize.” Josephine kisses her cheek. “I will make sure she doesn’t bring this up.”

They lapse into silence for a short while, simply holding one another. Lavellan’s eyes have closed, but she opens them again to speak up. “Did you like it? Apart from, you know?”

“It was an experiment,” Josephine reminds her. “We don’t have to repeat it if you’re not comfortable.”

Lavellan smiles, cheeks coloring. “That’s not what I asked,” she says, and Josephine can feel her own face heating.

“Yes,” she admits finally, elaborating when the Inquisitor gives her a curious look. “Watching you squirm and try to hold on for me, and the way you were pacing in front of Dagna…feeling you relax when you let go…”

One of Lavellan’s hands rubs her own face, right over where her vallaslin is tattooed. “Next time, we make sure we won’t be interrupted.”

“But of course.” Josephine kisses her ear. “Darling, I always mean for it to be good for you, too. In everything we try.”

Lavellan sinks a little further into the water, thinking that over. “I liked the…having to wait for permission. And the full feeling, kind of.”

“Well, then.” Josephine gives her a squeeze. “I think we could arrange to do this again sometime in the future. In your room, perhaps, with the doors blocked off.”

“Yeah.” Lavellan grins shyly at the bathwater. “Once this has worn off…yeah, we should.”

Josephine’s hand leaves the Inquisitor’s hip to trace down lower, over her lover’s thigh. “In the meantime, I could see to some of your other needs,” she suggests. Lavellan goes back to squirming, this time happily.

“Yes, please.”

Josephine still has some apologizing left to do.


End file.
